


Set Free

by pulpriter



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:20:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5075833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulpriter/pseuds/pulpriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Robinson was standing at a train depot in England, wondering whether he might have lost his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Series three spoilers. Do we still have to say that?  
> A possible take on a reunion in England.  
> These characters are not mine, they just take up an unprecedented amount of my life.  
> Please review and comment.

It was a little past noon, and Jack Robinson was standing at a train depot in England, wondering whether he might have lost his mind. But as long as he hadn’t lost his job, and as long as there was a chance of helping Phryne, maybe it would all be worth it—if the Baron ever actually showed up…

He thought back to the chain of events that had brought him here. It had all apparently started with an exchange of letters between Phryne’s mother and aunt. Inspector Robinson knew little about the contents of their correspondence, except that somehow it had ended with him standing on the platform at the train station nearest Fisher Hall.

***  
“Dear Prudence,  
I hope this letter finds you well. Henry and Phryne are here with me now! To my very great surprise, they arrived in a plane that Phryne piloted. What won’t my girl get up to?  
They had quite a story to tell. I was so angry with Henry for such a long time, but this explains things. I feel much relieved about him.  
I wish I could feel relieved about Phryne. I was so happy to see her again, but it wasn’t long before she was getting into all manner of scrapes: first she was speaking out of turn about political ideas at dinner parties, then poking around in things that were none of her business, and now she seems to be determined to get involved in the work of the police, although they don’t appreciate her interference. It’s almost as if something is troubling her and she is trying to distract herself by getting into mischief. It’s as bad as when she was a girl!  
Do you have any idea what might be going on? I’m beginning to feel quite alarmed. If she won’t stay out of other people’s business, I’m afraid she will find herself in serious trouble.  
Henry tells me she involves herself with detective work in Melbourne, but I can’t imagine why the police would allow it. He told me about a detective inspector who lets her investigate with him; is such a thing possible? Would he be able to convince her to stop this troublesome behavior?  
If you have any counsel, I look forward to hearing it.  
As always, your sister,  
Margaret” 

Prudence had been quick to write back.  
“Dearest Margaret,  
I’m sorry you are so worried about Phryne. She is such a dear girl, although she always has been headstrong!  
It is true, she has worked with the police here in Melbourne. She seems to have quite a knack for solving mysteries, although I don’t know if she could do it as well without cooperation from the police department. It is quite unorthodox, and I can’t imagine that another police force would be likely to accept her help in they way they have here.  
I do know Detective Inspector Robinson, the man Henry spoke of. From what I can see, he has Phryne’s best interests at heart, and is not at all the gold-digger I first imagined him to be. However, I can’t imagine that he would be willing to suggest to her that she should stop investigating; I’m afraid he has done nothing but encourage her.  
I hope she will settle down. I don’t like to hear that you have so much to worry about.  
Write again soon. There are plenty of suitable things to occupy Phryne’s time in England; I’m sure she doesn’t need to do the work of the police!  
Sincerely, your sister,  
Prudence” 

Prudence’s letter had hardly had time to reach England before she received a telegram from her distraught sister. 

_So worried about Phryne stop Now being threatened stop Do you have any ideas to help query Margaret_

Prudence didn’t know what else to do, or where else to go. She went to the police station at City South.


	2. Chapter 2

Prudence Stanley had never had occasion to step inside a police station. She couldn’t say that she was impressed. There was little decoration, it needed terribly to be repainted, and there were all manner of dreadful signs: “No Fighting”, for instance. “No Spitting!” What kind of person had to be told not to spit?  
Fortunately, Constable Collins came out to meet her quickly. “Mrs. Stanley!” he said. “Can I help you?”  
“I have come to speak to Inspector Robinson,” Prudence said in plummy tones.  
“Oh! He just took a suspect down to the cells—I’ll tell him you’re here.” The Constable turned and went back into the recesses of the building.  
Cells! Good heavens! It hadn’t occurred to Prudence that the Inspector would involve himself with such things.  
Fortunately, Constable Collins came back very quickly. Prudence was finding the whole experience very unpleasant. She had just realized that there was a slovenly person who seemed to be asleep on one of the benches inside the lobby. Why would such a thing be allowed to happen? “The Inspector will see you now,” Collins said, and gestured for her to follow him. She followed him down the hall to an office whose door proclaimed, “Detective Inspector J. Robinson.” It was a very nice door with a very nice sign, she thought. For the first time, it occurred to her that this must be a difficult and demanding position. 

Inspector Robinson came to the door to meet her. “Mrs. Stanley,” he said. “Come in. Please, sit down.” He politely pulled out a chair for her, and she sat down. He went behind his desk and sat down across from her. "How can I help you?” he asked.  
“I am not the one who needs help,” Prudence said firmly.  
“Oh.” The Inspector was puzzled. “Then what—”  
“I have had a telegram and several letters from my sister. She is very concerned about Phryne,” Prudence said with emphasis.  
“Phryne! Is she all right?” the Inspector said, alarmed. “What did your sister say?”  
Prudence had never heard the Inspector use her niece’s first name before. It seemed to her that he didn’t realize he had done it now. “At first, she was upset that Phryne was trying to work with the local police…” Prudence saw amusement light the Inspector’s eyes before he could suppress it. “But now, she has sent me a telegram saying that Phryne is being threatened.”  
The Inspector showed no amusement now. “Threatened? Did your sister give you any details?”  
“No. You know how difficult it is to explain anything in a telegram.”  
“Yes…” The Inspector stood and paced to his window, gazing blindly out.  
Prudence decided to speak her mind. “Inspector Robinson, I believe it would be very helpful if you could go help sort all this out.”  
The Inspector stopped short. “Me? To England?”  
“Yes.”  
The Inspector’s face took on a bleak look. “Mrs. Stanley…you must know how much I wish I could do what you are suggesting.”  
“Inspector, I appreciate that this is your employment, and you can’t simply walk away from it. If I could find a way for you to help Phryne, without putting your career in jeopardy, would you do it?”  
“Of course I would, but how could such a thing be possible, Mrs. Stanley?”  
Prudence straightened her shoulders. “There is a vulgar saying: ‘Money talks’. But vulgar as it might be, it is sometimes true, and if it will help Phryne, I’ll do whatever I can.” 

A hint of a smile seemed to settle on the Inspector’s face. “She’s lucky to have you on her side, ma’am.”  
Prudence was startled to realize that she felt a sort of fondness for the Inspector. She thought perhaps Phryne was lucky to have him on her side.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack would probably never know all the machinations that had taken place once Mrs. Stanley put her mind to the task of getting him to England, but it made little difference now. Once he arrived, he followed the instructions he had been given, immediately making a phone call to Fisher Hall. “May I speak to the Baron, please? This is—” well, his title made little difference here—“Jack Robinson.”  
The Baron came on the line with a hearty voice. “Jack! Where are you?”  
“I’ve just arrived at the train station. Lord Fisher, may I speak to your daughter?”  
There was a moment’s pause. “No, Phryne can’t come to the phone right now. I’ll explain when I come to pick you up at the station. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”  
“No—wait—Baron, I –” The line went dead. The Baron had hung up on him. 

Some forty minutes later, Jack saw a large dark car pull up. Henry Fisher got out of the car and headed toward the station. Jack walked toward the main entrance to meet him. 

“Jack! So here you are!”  
“Baron, what’s going on? Where is your daughter?”  
Henry squirmed a bit. “Well, that’s the sticky part, you see…”  
Jack pinned him with a steely stare, and waited. The Baron remembered how uneasy this young man made him. He fidgeted, then said, “The thing of it is, she’s in jail.” 

Of all the things Jack might have thought he would hear, that was not even in the running. “What? What is she doing in jail?”  
“Well, now, it isn’t any major infraction, really…It’s just that she gets so interested in things, you know—well, you do know, I suppose—and she is so stubborn sometimes—“  
“Get to the point, Baron,” Jack gritted out.  
“Well, you see, she’s charged with obstructing an investigation…”  
Jack silently tried to count to ten, but only got as far as three. “And when did this happen?”  
“It’s only a few days ago…”  
“What! You let her sit in a jail cell for days? Why didn’t you bail her out? What the hell were you thinking?” the usually calm and controlled Inspector growled, his hands waving in frustration.  
The Baron acted affronted, but when that had no effect, he went for sheepish. “You see, we’ve been working on some arrangements with our finances, and—well, we put Phryne in control of them. Temporarily, of course. Just until we get a few things worked out…But now she’s in jail…”  
Jack was seething, and had to look aside to regain control. He’d already cursed in the middle of a train station. His voice took on a quality that brooked no disobedience, and he pointed his finger right at the Baron’s duplicitous face. “Lord Fisher. This is what you’re going to do. You are –”  
Henry’s face brightened suddenly, and he interrupted, never one to miss an escape. “Ah! here is my lovely wife,” he said, as that lady stepped up to the platform.

Lady Fisher had been waiting in the car, watching her husband interacting with the man on the platform. The more Henry tried to explain, the more the Inspector’s eyes narrowed, his jaw set. She couldn’t hear what the men were saying, but it seemed clear that this young man didn’t show proper respect to her husband. He seemed to think it appropriate to wave his arms at Henry! He didn’t need to be so angry; it wasn’t Henry’s fault, after all. It was Phryne’s, really. 

Lady Fisher didn’t feel that she cared much for this arrogant-acting inspector, and decided it was time to intervene. She got out of the car, and walked to the platform, when Henry saw her and took the opportunity to introduce her.  
“Ah! here is my lovely wife.”  
The Inspector turned toward her. He saw an elegant woman, slim, graceful, patrician. Where he could see it under her stylish straw hat, her hair was still dark, but threaded through with silver which seemed to be nothing so much as a chic decoration. Her sapphire-like eyes were flashing with a stubborn glint that was all too familiar to him.  
Upon seeing her, his aspect changed completely. Lady Fisher watched as the aggravating young man’s face softened, his deep dark eyes warmed, and his lips parted slightly in surprise. “Lady Fisher,” he said in a voice like a morning fog, “you are—very like your daughter.”  
It seemed clear that, to his mind, this was a great compliment. Margaret thought she might perhaps reconsider her initial assessment of the man.  
Phryne had seemed rather attached to him, after all; she had told Margaret a number of stories about her time in Melbourne, and the Inspector seemed to feature in all of them, one way or the other.  
“Margaret, this is Jack,” the Baron said familiarly.  
“Mr. Robinson,” she said courteously, offering her hand.  
“Lady Fisher,” the Inspector said, taking her hand respectfully.  
Margaret decided to withhold judgment of this fellow until she knew more about him. Her initial impression may have been too hasty.


	4. Chapter 4

The Baron and Baroness led Jack to their car. Henry was silent, leaving Margaret to keep up any conversation.   
“When did you meet my daughter, Inspector Robinson?” she asked.   
“As I understand it, it was the day she arrived in Melbourne. I was investigating a possible murder at a house where she had been invited to luncheon.”   
Margaret enjoyed listening to him. Although she had lived in England for years now, his accent made her think of home. “And you don’t mind her helping you to investigate?”   
Jack chose his words carefully. “To be honest, I was not enthusiastic about allowing a civilian to participate at first.” Jack smiled to himself, involuntarily. “But your daughter is very capable. She is a creative thinker, and very intuitive.”   
“Inspector Robinson!” Lady Fisher burst out. “I must tell you that I have heard Phryne described by any number of young men, but I don’t believe I have ever heard one describe her as a creative and intuitive thinker.”   
Jack was discomfited, but didn’t back down. “I mean it with all due respect, ma’am.”   
“I see that. How fortunate Phryne is.”   
Jack didn’t answer for several beats. When at last he spoke, he said, “It appears that she is not the only Fisher woman to be able to confuse me.”   
Lady Fisher simply smiled enigmatically. 

In no time, they arrived at Fisher Hall, where the Fishers were currently residing. It was quite splendid, and Jack felt very much out of his element.

Jack had only one piece of luggage, and it had been stowed in the boot of the car. He enquired of the Baron what he should do with it. Before he could answer, the Baroness spoke up. “You don’t need to do a thing. Mr. Dunham will bring it in from the car.”  
“Lady Fisher, I haven’t arranged yet for a place to stay—”  
“Nonsense. There is plenty of room here. You will stay here.”   
“What?” said the Baron.   
“I—” started Jack.  
“You have come to help Phryne, so that is the least we can do. Isn’t it, Henry?” Lady Fisher said to her husband, taking his arm with a dazzling light in her eyes.   
“Of course, my dear,” he said, accepting defeat before the battle ever began.   
Jack didn’t have a better idea, so he decided he’d best accept their hospitality. 

Once inside, they all went into the parlour. Drinks and a light snack were brought in by a member of the kitchen staff. Although it was still early afternoon, Jack accepted a drink and a scone with alacrity.   
Phryne’s mother spoke up softly. “Mr. Robinson, what can we do to get Phryne back home?”   
Jack said, “I have some ideas. Lady Fisher, your sister gave me the names of some influential people, with the notion that they might be helpful to smooth the way if your daughter was in danger. I’d like to try to contact them and see if they can help.”  
“Thank goodness for Prudence and her connections!” Lady Fisher said, never noticing her husband rolling his eyes. Jack showed her the names he had. “Oh! I should have thought of this myself,” she said. “I can call ahead to introduce you. That should help ease your way in.” She noticed that the Inspector had reached for a second scone. “Mr. Robinson—have you had luncheon?”   
Lady Fisher watched his eyes light up. “I—er—haven’t, actually. But I don’t want to put anyone to any trouble…”   
“Nonsense!” the Baroness said. “I’ll have something brought to you immediately.” 

Within a short time, the Baroness had arranged for Jack’s entrée to the offices of a few high-ranking officials. While she did that, Jack enjoyed an entrée of his own. The Baron, never comfortable long in Jack’s presence, had scarpered off somewhere.

With luncheon and the phone calls concluded, Jack was ready to seek out the powerful people who could help get Phryne out of jail. He asked Lady Fisher if she could recommend a taxi he could call.   
“That is completely unnecessary!” the Baroness said. “Mr. Dunham can drive you wherever you need to go.”   
“Thank you. That will be very helpful. I will try to get your daughter released as soon as possible.”   
The Baron returned to the room in time to hear him, and he and his Baroness looked hopeful. The car arrived with Mr. Dunham driving, so Jack got in and left on his mission.


	5. Chapter 5

Phryne Fisher was feeling down-hearted as she was pulled into an interview room from her cell on the fourth day of her captivity. She despised the loss of control she felt in the cell. As she sat and waited to see what indignity was to follow, she heard the man on duty explaining to someone that Phryne would be his responsibility now. The person to whom he was speaking said, “I understand. Thank you.”  
Phryne sat bolt upright. Was she hearing things now?  
The officer on duty added, “I’ll warn ye. She’s got a mouth on her, that one.”  
The pause that followed was much too long for Phryne’s taste. She heard a brief cough. “I’ll…take that into consideration.”  
The door opened, and Jack walked in, with a stern look on his face. He closed the door behind him as quickly as he could. His countenance changed immediately to one of concern, and his eyes raked over her. “Phryne,” he said softly, but with intensity.  
“How?” she said, rising to her feet.  
“It’s a very long story, and I only know the half of it.” Jack turned to make sure the blinds on the door were secured against prying eyes. Turning back, he said, “I—Oof !”  
Phryne had launched herself against him, saying, “I don’t care how! Don’t pinch me, I don’t want to wake up.” 

In the past, she had made free with his person in a dozen ways: she had fingered his lapels, tied his tie, even flown into his arms when she was afraid of a spider; but she had never clung to him as she did now, as if she were afraid to let go. At last, Jack gently separated them, and asked, “Are you all right?”  
She nodded. “How can you be here? Am I dreaming?”  
He smiled. “No. I’m here; but I’m not sure I believe it myself.”  
She pulled his face down to hers, and kissed him. When at last they separated, he let out a long shaky breath. She put her lips very near his ear and whispered breathily, “Just in case you forgot what the jailer said.”  
He huffed a laugh. “The jailer was right.”  
She grinned shamelessly. In the last few moments she had been happier, despite her circumstances, than—well, than she had been since she had clambered into the plane to fly away from Melbourne. 

“How can you get me out of here?” Phryne asked. “You’re not thinking of paying the bail, I hope!”  
“I’m not paying the bail. Through some powerful connections your Aunt Prudence arranged for me to meet, and a handful of trumped up and barely legal paperwork, you are being released into my custody.”  
“Your custody?”  
“Yes.”  
“Oooo,” she said.  
Jack looked heavenward, as if searching for help. He said gravely, “Phryne. We have to play this seriously if I’m to get you out of here.”  
That startled her into line—she despised being in that cell, and she wanted nothing more than to be free. “Jack! You’ve got to get me out!” She hated sounding so desperate, so she tried for some humor. “I can’t wear these prison clothes a moment longer!”  
He gave her his bit of a smile. “Miss Fisher, surely you know that you are beautiful, even with no lipstick, and wearing—” he made a face, as he tilted his head and surveyed with puzzlement the loose gear she was wearing—“ a bag?”  
Phryne pounced on the first part of his remark. “Jack! You’ve never called me beautiful before.”  
“Haven’t I?” He fell deep into her gemstone eyes. “I’m sure I must have thought it at some point.”  
He took another deep breath. “Let’s see about getting you released.”


	6. Chapter 6

The arrangements for Phryne to be released had gone off without a problem, and Jack was now only waiting for her to change into her own clothing so that she could leave with him. He turned at the sound of the door opening, and a different Phryne walked through—or more accurately, the Miss Fisher he knew best sauntered out. Gone was the prison uniform, and back was an elegant ensemble complete with jewelry, sequins and touches of fur. It was the Miss Fisher he knew from Melbourne; she seemed somehow more untouchable, less accessible now.   
Unaware of Jack’s thoughts, Phryne said, “What a relief! I feel like myself for the first time in days.” She looked so pleased, he could only smile. She stopped in front of him and held out her wrists. “Are you going to cuff me?”   
Jack shook his head, then addressed the constable who had escorted her out. “That will be all, Constable,” he said with his usual authority, although he had no jurisdiction in England. As the constable left, Jack thought he heard grumbling, but decided he didn’t really want to ask.   
“Let’s go, Miss Fisher,” Jack said as officiously as he knew how. He took her arm and walked out of the station.   
Phryne sighed as they stepped away from the building. “I couldn’t wait to get out of there. But how on earth did you get involved with this?”   
“Well, there was your mother, and your father, and your Aunt Prudence …and who knows how many other hapless souls got in the way…somehow, Miss Fisher, it was felt that you needed a helping hand.”   
“And you are the helping hand?”   
He shrugged as they arrived at the waiting car.   
“Well. I always liked your hands. How do you plan to use them? To help me, I mean?” She was beginning to feel much more herself.   
“I thought I’d begin by opening this car door, and getting you far away from here.” He demonstrated. 

Phryne was delighted that Jack had borrowed a car and driver from her parents.   
“Mr. Dunham!” she said to the driver who had been waiting on them. “Thank you for driving us!” Jack helped Phryne into the back seat, then crossed to the other side and got in, himself. As the car pulled away from the jail, Phryne said, “You know, Jack, Mr. Dunham reminds me of Mr. Butler.”   
Jack looked carefully at the driver, but failed to see a resemblance. “Does he?” Jack asked.   
“Yes,” Phryne said, and scooted over to curl up against his side. “He’s very discreet."


	7. Chapter 7

When they arrived at Fisher Hall, Mr. Dunham let them out near the front door and took the car around to the garage. Phryne took Jack’s arm as they walked up to the fortresslike entrance. Jack looked up at the façade, but did not comment.  
“Don’t let it get to you,” Phryne said with a bit of sass. “None of us really deserve to be here, as you know.”  
He seemed about to make some sort of remark, but Lady Fisher came through the door at that moment, wearing a happy smile. “Phryne! I’m so glad you’re home!” She turned to Jack as well. “Thank you, Inspector Robinson,” she said in a heartfelt way. “Now, both of you, come in and have a glass of sherry.”  
Jack smiled politely, but Phryne leaned into his ear and said, “Sherry?!”  
Jack’s smile grew wider.

A bit of discussion ensured that everyone enjoyed a glass of whatever they preferred to celebrate Phryne’s return home. After they had all unwound a bit, Jack asked Phryne, “Is there something we should be investigating? Mrs. Stanley was very concerned that you were being threatened.”  
“Threatened?” Phryne was mystified. “How would she have gotten that idea?”  
“Oh, dear,” said Margaret. All eyes turned her way. “I suppose I said that you were being threatened…I meant that the police were threatening to put you in jail, but I suppose it sounded worse than that.”  
Jack was dumbfounded. “The threats you wrote of…were from the police?”  
Phryne was indignant. “They wouldn’t accept my help, although they used some of my ideas. And didn’t even give me any credit! And then they threw me in jail!”  
Jack said in an undertone, “I have to admit I can understand the impulse.”  
“At least when _you_ put me in a cell, you were trying to protect me,” Phryne said forthrightly.  
Margaret and Henry turned on Jack. “You put her in a jail cell?” Margaret asked in wonder.  
“What?” Henry said. “And after you yelled at me about not getting her out of jail!”  
Phryne stared at Jack with unabashed admiration. “You yelled at Father?”  
“I didn’t yell,” Jack said firmly.  
“You cursed!” Henry accused. “In the middle of the train station!”  
Margaret interceded. “You were very angry, Inspector,” she said. “That’s why I came to break things up between the two of you.”  
Phryne was enraptured. “This gets better every moment. Jack, how wonderful!”  
Jack was lost. “Wonderful?!”  
“Of course,” Phryne said, failing to explain. She met his eyes with a happy gleam in hers. He searched her face for an explanation, but didn’t find one.  
At that moment, a maid came to the door with tea, so the Inspector was left to muse about Phryne’s answer.


	8. Chapter 8

The maid left them with the teacart, which boasted various sandwiches and light breads, as well as a selection of delectable-looking cakes and biscuits. The Baron and Baroness sat down with Phryne and Jack to enjoy the pleasant afternoon ritual. 

Now that Phryne was safe, Margaret looked forward to watching her interaction with Jack Robinson. He had been very guarded in their conversation so far, but Margaret assumed he would loosen up now.  
She was taken aback to see, then, that while Phryne seemed more open and lighthearted than she had been since she arrived in England, Jack was as controlled and reticent as he had been all along—other than those few moments with Henry at the train station; but really, Henry could bring that out in one.  
Henry had told her little about the Inspector, except that Henry couldn’t understand why Phryne seemed so attached to him. It was true, he seemed unlike any of the other men Margaret had known to join Phryne’s orbit. Quiet and serious, and he appreciated Phryne’s intelligence…Was that what had led Phryne to be drawn to this man? Had she tired of the playboys, the scions, the heirs who had never a consequential thought and prized her only for her looks and her style?  
It was a bit disappointing, though—he seemed to keep very much to himself. Margaret couldn’t see any evidence that this solemn Inspector was much affected by Phryne.


	9. Chapter 9

Wanting a change of scene, and having finished her tea, Phryne said perkily, “Jack, why don’t we take a stroll around the grounds? There are some lovely gardens here, but I haven’t really taken time to appreciate them.” She smiled at her parents. “You’ll excuse the two of us, I’m sure?”  
“Of course,” Lady Fisher answered. The Baron made no comment, but always appreciated Jack’s absence.

It was a lovely day for a stroll, and as far as Phryne was concerned, it was a lovely day to take the Inspector’s muscled arm in hers and wander away from prying eyes. As they made their way to the formal gardens, Phryne entertained Jack with what history she knew of the estate. They walked slowly, enjoying the dappled light, the warm air, and the pleasure of being together again. Phryne was anxious to show Jack a favorite garden that she had loved for years, and they walked through a gate in the tall hedge to find it. As they burst through, they saw it was blooming at the height of its glory. Phryne exclaimed, “Oh, Jack! It’s beautiful!” Her face was alight with joy.  
He couldn’t restrain the smile that came to his face, although he thought he must look besotted. His eyes were only on her lovely expression when he answered, “Beautiful, indeed.”  
She glanced back at him happily, then recognized the look on his face. She took his hand and said slowly, “I believe that may be the second time you’ve called me beautiful.”  
“I believe it may not be the last time you’ll hear it.”  
Phryne stepped nearer to him. “Jack,” she said, “Have I thanked you properly for getting me out of jail?”  
“Properly?” he asked. “I’m not sure about that.”  
“That’s all right. I much prefer improperly,” Phryne said and moved in close. To her great pleasure, this time he made the first move.

Lady Fisher said to her husband, “Inspector Robinson is not what I expected.”  
The Baron groused, “He’s a dull stick! Phryne could do better.”  
“He appreciates her intelligence. Can you imagine what that means to her?” Margaret couldn’t forget that Henry had wanted Phryne to give up her schooling—he didn’t feel it was worthwhile for girls.  
“Her intelligence. That’s not all he appreciates! Have you seen how he looks at her?”  
“She’s a lovely girl, Henry. But I didn’t really think the Inspector seemed to pay her much attention.”  
“Not pay her much attention? The man won’t stay away from her! No matter how much I wish he would. ”  
“Henry! What is all this about?” Margaret wondered.  
The Baron paused for a moment, then answered with irritation, “Oh, I don’t know! I just thought she’d end up with one of those party boys. Someone I could have a wager with, go to the ponies with. Not a policeman. A policeman!” he repeated for emphasis. 

As they were walking back toward Fisher Hall, having frightened a gardener who didn’t expect anyone to be around, Phryne asked gently, “Do you have a job to go back to in Melbourne?”  
He paused only a moment. “Your Aunt Prudence seems to think I have.”  
“That still sounds like quite a risk!” Phryne noted. “And all to rescue me?”  
That brought a laugh. “All hail the conquering hero! As usual, you didn’t need a rescue at all, from what your mother said.”  
“How can you say that? I was _rotting_ in a jail cell,” Phryne teased.  
He made a face at her. “We both know that the police, those villains,”–she smiled broadly—“were simply trying to make a point. You’d have been set free soon, whether I had anything to do with it or not.” He met her eyes, and his were filled with humor. “My presence here is completely unnecessary.”  
Though he had expected it, she didn’t laugh. Her expression was thoughtful. She wanted to answer his remark, but it would take some risk on her part. Slowly, she said, “I never wanted to consider any man to be necessary to my well-being…” Before she could finish, she saw the barely perceptible nod as he looked away. She stopped walking, and when he turned to her, she reached up to lay her hand against his cheek. “But Jack…I'm glad you came after me.”  
The look in her eyes was more than he had expected. It was enough for him.


	10. Chapter 10

When Jack and Phryne came back indoors, Lady Fisher came to meet them. “Oh, Phryne. I’ve just remembered. We are invited to the Morgans’ estate this evening. You remember them, you always enjoyed the Morgans.”  
“Tonight? With me just home from that horrible jail cell? Are you sure that’s a good idea, Mother?” Phryne had hoped for a quiet evening with Jack.  
“Actually, it might help to put wagging tongues to rest,” Margaret hinted.  
“Oh, I suppose…but Jack, do you have dinner dress with you?”  
“I do, actually. I didn’t think it would be needed, but Mac insisted I bring it.”  
“Mac! Mac helped you pack? I’ve always said you were full of surprises! What else did she tell you to bring?”  
“I was allowed to manage the rest on my own,” he said wryly.  
“Then you can join us tonight! That’s marvelous.”  
He demurred. “The invitation was for you and your family.”  
Phryne replied with a familiar smirk, “But you have to come! Don’t you have to keep me in your custody?”  
Jack laughed. “I think that’s reached the end of its usefulness. I release you; you’re free to go.” He made a gesture that he might make to a prisoner he was releasing.  
Later, Margaret thought often about the interaction that followed. Phryne had always wanted to be free, and it appeared she had found a man who understood that; so Margaret was amazed when Phryne quietly answered the Inspector, “Oh. Well. It was nice while it lasted.” 

The four separated to prepare for the evening. At the appointed time, the Baron and the Inspector found themselves staring at each other in the main hall while they awaited the ladies. “We might as well have a drink,” the Baron said sullenly; it put him on edge, all this time spent with a copper. “No telling how long we’ll be waiting.”  
Jack didn’t have any better ideas, so he followed the Baron into the parlour. The Baron poured two glasses of whiskey, and he and the Inspector drank deep. It would have been a good time for conversation, but neither man could think of a safe topic, so they stood in silence.  
“It’s very good whiskey,” Jack said at last.  
“Yes,” Henry said.  
They stood in silence awhile longer.  
“Is your room all right?” Henry asked.  
“Yes. Very nice. Thank you,” Jack said.  
Silence.  
“When are you leaving?” Lord Fisher asked.  
“Father! What kind of a question is that?” Phryne asked as she swept into the room. She was a vision in blue and green silk.  
The light in Jack’s eyes made the Baron want to reiterate his question, but he refrained. “Where is your mother? Is she coming soon?” he asked instead.  
“Any minute,” Phryne teased. “Jack, let’s walk outside while we wait.” She didn’t encounter any resistance from him; he was all too happy to leave the stilted conversation he had been struggling to have with the Baron. He offered his arm, and they walked out through the imposing entrance. It was a pleasant evening, warm and clear.  
Phryne took in Jack’s appearance. “I do think evening dress suits you, Jack.” Even as she said so, she was reaching up to straighten his perfectly straight tie, taking the opportunity to meet his eyes again.  
Inside, Margaret had just floated down the stairs to find Henry in the parlour. “Well, come along, dear,” she said. “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.” She looked him over, and stood in front of him as she reached up to straighten his tie. “You look as handsome as ever,” she smiled.  
That shook him out of his mood, at least until they stepped outside again and saw Phryne move quickly apart from Jack. By this time, Mr. Dunham had brought the car around, and the men handed the ladies in, then got into the car themselves.


	11. Chapter 11

The Morgans welcomed the Fishers and their uninvited guest. Though Phryne and her parents didn’t bother to pay it any notice, gossip about the man Phryne brought with her was spreading like wildfire. Phryne was rather notorious by this point, and everything about her was grist for the gossip mill. Fortunately, the Morgans felt this simply added to the _brio_ of their party.  
After dinner, everyone adjourned to the ballroom. Jack and the Fishers entered and found a table where they could enjoy a drink when they were not dancing. They had hardly settled in when the band struck up a tune. Phryne’s eyes lit up, and she reached for Jack’s hand. “Jack! Dance with me!”  
He smiled indulgently and rose to escort her to the dance floor.  
The music was lovely and romantic, and Phryne was enjoying every moment of their dance; but when the singer began to sing, the lyrics were all about a sad break-up. “What! I thought this was a romantic tune! That’s awful!” Phryne fussed.  
“Sometimes romances don’t work out,” Jack said prosaically.  
Suddenly serious, she looked earnestly up at him. “But…sometimes they do?”  
“Sometimes they do,” he allowed. “Look at your parents.”  
“Pfft!” she huffed. “They’re no example!”  
“But they seem to have stuck it out, come what may.”  
Phryne wasn’t ready to agree to that. “That isn’t always the answer, either.”  
“No. It wasn’t for me.” He didn’t often talk so plainly about his marriage. “I just couldn’t seem to be what she needed.”  
“No one should have to change for someone else!” Phryne said with great feeling.  
“Perhaps not…” He had a lopsided grin as he went on. “I’ve changed, since I met you.”  
Phryne didn’t care much for this train of thought. “I never set out to change you,” she said resolutely.  
“I know that. But we are all changing, all the time. If science is right, and if everything is always in motion, even the atoms we are made of—then maybe the worst thing we could do would be to remain static, forever stuck in one place.”  
Phryne was silent as she rolled this over in her mind. She had told him once that she couldn’t change who she was, and she still believed that; but maybe people could be true to themselves, yet still move ever closer together…Not ready to deal with this new idea yet, she said, “You’re very philosophical tonight.”  
He laughed. “And this is no time to be philosophical! Your sad song is almost over. Maybe the next one will be cheerier.” 

Back at the table, Margaret smiled as she watched Phryne and her Inspector. “Oh, just look at the two of them!”  
“Yes, yes, I’m looking,” Henry said churlishly. “I’m looking at that smirk.”  
Margaret wore a smirk of her own. “Which one? They both look perfectly smug.”  
Henry continued, irritated. “Jack Robinson! A policeman, for God’s sake, Margaret! And what can he hope to offer her?”  
“You have only to look at her face for the answer to that question,” Margaret said happily. “Oh, Henry! Admit it! She’s come back to herself since he arrived.”  
“She could do better,” he insisted.  
Sometimes, Margaret thought, Henry had a gift for missing the obvious. She moved closer to him. “I know someone else who chose a man who wasn’t considered ‘suitable’.” She stroked Henry’s lapel. “And,” she purred, “I wouldn’t have missed a minute of it. I really wouldn’t.”  
Henry gazed into her beautiful eyes. She really was the love of his life, just as he had told Phryne. “I wouldn’t have, either, my dear. Well…I might have left out a few of the more difficult days…”  
“They all had to happen, to bring us to this moment, now.” Margaret looked wistful. “And Phryne will have her own difficult moments, to be sure. But I think she may have found a man who would be constant.”  
“Certainly he would! She has all the money.”  
“Henry! I don’t think for a minute that he’s only interested in her because of her money.”  
Henry snarled again, “No, he’s quite the lover. I saw the farewell kiss they shared before Phryne flew me back here. Thought it would never end.”  
Margaret had an answer for that, too. With an enticing smile, she said, “I remember some kisses that went on forever. You didn’t think there was anything wrong with the idea then.” The previous dance came to an end, and a waltz began. Margaret took Henry’s hand. “Henry! Dance with me!”  
He could never refuse her a waltz. They walked out to the dance floor, noticing as they did that Phryne and Jack appeared ready to join the dance. 

It was well that all four of them were well trained in the waltz, because they were paying more attention to each other than to the dance. Phryne watched her parents: it did seem that they shared a love that would last. Margaret watched Phryne: it seemed clear to her that Phryne had found her match. Jack watched the Baron: he wondered if he would ever get past his basic distrust of the man. Henry watched Jack: he’d better be worthy of his daughter, or there’d be hell to pay.


	12. Epilogue

Henry couldn’t settle down. He was pacing around the bedroom as Margaret smoothed a velvety lotion into her face. She tried to ignore the pacing, but at last gave in and asked, “What is bothering you tonight?”  
He glared. “You know what they’re up to, don’t you?”  
“Now, dearest—”  
“You know very well that one of those beds will be empty tonight—if it isn’t already! If I walked out there right now…”  
Margaret rose and glided over to him, her elegant peignoir skimming the floor. “Calm down.” She stroked his arm. “They are two adults. It’s nothing to do with us.” Her jewel-like eyes captured his, and her lips curled slowly into a seductive smile. “And why would you want to walk out there? It’s lovely right here. Stop worrying and come to bed. We have a bed, too, remember?”  
“Of course I remember…” Lost in her eyes, he was falling under her spell, as he always did.  
“Then come and join me in it.” She took his hands and led him. 

In another room, another man was lost in another pair of eyes. He was falling under her spell, as he always did. He had answered the soft tap at his door with jacket off, tie untied, shirt partly open. She stood in the doorway, holding two old-fashioned glasses. “Hallo, Jack,” she said, with a knowing smile.  
He opened the door wider and stepped back, and she stepped in, handing him a glass.  
“I hope you’re not counting on any self-sacrificing restraint on my part tonight,” he said candidly. “There’s not a chance that I could resist you, coming to me like this…”  
Elated, she tapped her glass to his, and drank deep. She put the glass aside, and reached for him.  
No restraint was exercised on anyone’s part. At last.


End file.
